Evil In Carnations (10 page)

“I want Marco,” Nikki said.

I smiled at her. Naturally she’d want me to work on the case
with
Marco.

“Abby?” Dave said.

“Yes, sir?”

“I want you to keep out of it and let Marco do his job.”

Damn.
“Yes, sir.”

“You’re too close to Nikki to be objective.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re crossing your fingers behind your back, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Sheepishly, I uncrossed my fingers and put my hand in my lap.

Dave picked up his pen and jotted a note on his yellow pad. “Consider yourself banned from this case.”

He wasn’t serious, was he?

“I mean that,” he added, as though reading my mind. He turned to Nikki. “I’ll contact Marco right away so we can get started. In the meantime, don’t talk to any reporters or cops without checking with me first, okay? Good. Then I think that covers things for now. Do you have any questions for me?”

Nikki said shyly, “What will your fee be?”

“At this point, I’ll be charging my standard hourly rate, plus the cost of the investigator. However—and I have to be candid with you—if we’re not successful in establishing your alibi or in finding a viable suspect, and you’re indicted for murder, then the fee would be quite substantial and a large retainer would have to be paid.”

Nikki swallowed hard. “I understand.”

“It won’t come to that,” I assured her.

“I’ll give you a call as soon as I know more,” Dave told her, “and I’m always available by cell phone. If anything comes up or you have more questions, don’t hesitate to call.”

 

As Nikki and I stepped onto the sidewalk outside Dave’s building, the bell in the church tower on the next block began to toll the noon hour. “Do you want to grab some lunch at the deli?” I asked her.

“No, thanks. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“Then you can have a cup of tea and keep me company,” I said, threading my arm through hers, “because we need to talk.”

“Why?”

“You don’t really have to ask that, do you?”

Nikki was quiet until after we’d settled at a little corner bistro table. I’d ordered a turkey sandwich on homemade rosemary bread and a cup of hot coffee for me, and mint tea for her. I gave her half my sandwich and urged her to eat something, but she shook her head.

“I just want to go home and kick back for a while before my shift starts at the hospital.”

“Are you sure you want to go to work today? You know everyone at the hospital will be talking about the murder. Nothing escapes attention in this town. You have sick days saved up. Use one today. No one is going to say anything.”

“What am I going to do at the apartment except sit around and worry? I might as well go in. It’ll keep my mind occupied.”

I chewed a bite of my sandwich, studying Nikki as she stirred honey into her tea. “Why didn’t you tell me the whole story this morning?”

“The cops were waiting. There wasn’t time.”

“How long would it have taken to tell me you went with Jonas to his development?”

Nikki put down the straw, a troubled expression on her face. “I was dazed, Abby. Those cops really scared me. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

I had to concede her point. Given the way the cops acted, I would have been rattled, too. “So when did Jonas ask you out to dinner?”

“He phoned me around six o’clock Sunday afternoon.”

“Wow. Short notice, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, and I usually say no when a guy pulls that, but this was Jonas. I was too excited to care.” She shook her head. “Boy, was I an idiot.”

“You said Jonas hinted Thursday evening about asking you out. Is that when you gave him your phone number?”

“Yes, but I was still surprised when he called. I figured he was just flirting with me.”

“Tell me what happened.”

With a weary sigh, Nikki began to recite her story. “Jonas picked me up at eight and took me to a restaurant not far from the Wild Boar Steak House. We were there for about two hours; then on the way home, he had this great idea to show me his new development. He said it wouldn’t be that much out of the way, but it was after eleven o’clock when we finally got there.”

“I don’t get why you even agreed to go. What could you see in the dark?”

“I know it sounds ridiculous now, but Jonas was very convincing. And to be fair, he had really rolled out the red carpet for me: champagne, caviar, lobster tails, chocolate soufflés. . . . He even brought me a bouquet of white carnations. So I thought I should at least go see his new development. Honestly, the way he’d bragged about it, I thought it would be an exclusive, gated community with million-dollar homes, but it was just another muddy subdivision under construction with a fancy name over a fancy stone entrance.

“Anyway, he parked the car in front of a model home and asked if I wanted to go inside for a nightcap. I told him it was late and asked him to take me home.”

“And he did?”

She nodded, then took a sip of tea.

“Then how did you get clay on your boots?”

“Oh, I forgot. Jonas showed me a little footbridge that spans a creek beside the home. The lawn hasn’t been put in yet and the ground was all muddy from melting snow.”

“You forgot?” I leaned closer to say in a hushed voice, “It seems like something you’d remember, considering your boots are now evidence.”

Her lips pursing angrily, Nikki tore a hunk of bread crust off her half of the sandwich and began to shred it. “I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, but I
did
forget.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.”

“You implied it. And FYI, I didn’t forget to tell the
cops
about getting out of the car, if that’s your next question. Forgive me if I forget a detail. I’ve told this story so many times I can hardly remember my name anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Nikki. That was totally insensitive of me. I remember what it’s like to be questioned by the cops. It’s not pleasant. Let’s just wipe out the last few minutes, okay? All I want is to help you.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she immediately dug in her purse for a tissue. “I hate feeling like a criminal. All I did was go on a date with the guy. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know you didn’t, Nikki.”

“You were so right about Jonas. He seemed so gentlemanly at first, with the bouquet of flowers and champagne and all. But it was just to make himself look good. Every word out of his mouth was about him. How I wish I’d taken your advice.”

That made two of us. But at least she allayed my concern that she was hiding something more from me.

“Do you really think Marco can find witnesses to back up my alibi?” she asked.

“With both of us working on it, we should be able to find someone who saw you.”

“But Dave said you weren’t supposed to get involved.”

“Dave always says that. You don’t mind if I help Marco, do you?”

“Are you serious? I need you in my corner.”

“Then don’t fret your pointy head about it. And if you need any assistance with Dave’s fees—a loan or anything—just ask, okay? We’ll find a way to pay him.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got some savings, and my parents will help—if I need it.”

That was a relief. The total sum of my personal savings was in an old piggy bank in my bedroom. “Have you told your parents what happened?”

She nodded. “I didn’t want them to hear it from someone else. Even though they live in Chicago now, Mom still talks to friends here.”

”How did they take the news?”

“Dad wasn’t too freaked out, but Mom got kind of hysterical. You know how she can be.”

I knew all too well. I’d spent enough time at her house to know not to mention anything that might give rise to alarm. Mrs. Hiduke made my mother look like the Sea of Tranquility.

I glanced at my watch. “I’ve got to get back to Bloomers.”

Nikki wrapped up her uneaten food and disposed of it, while I hurriedly finished mine. Before heading our separate ways, I said, “Good luck at the hospital.”

“Thanks.” Impulsively, Nikki gave me a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 

On my way back to Bloomers I phoned Marco to give him an update. By the noise in the background, I knew he was working behind the bar. “Did Dave reach you?”

“Yep.”

“So you know all about Nikki’s boot prints and the clay and everything?”

“Yep.”

“So we should start canvassing my neighbors. Can you get away after supper tonight?”

“Whoa, there, Sunshine. You’re not working this case.”

“Why not? They’re
my
neighbors.”

He began to talk softly, his voice sounding as though he were cupping the receiver so as not to be overheard. “I appreciate that, but you have to understand that Dave hired me to do a job, and I have a professional obligation to—”

“Yada, yada. I know the drill. And you know there’s no way I can sit around twiddling my thumbs when my best friend’s life is at stake.”

“Okay, hold it right there. It’s way too soon to be making that kind of remark—”

The rest of his sentence was lost in loud cheers from customers at his bar. Obviously, the TV was tuned to a sports channel.

“Listen, I’m kind of busy at the moment. Why don’t you come down here at five o’clock for dinner? We can talk more then.”

“It’s a date, Salvare.” He didn’t realize it yet, but that date included some canvassing.

 

Back at Bloomers, Grace had a full house in the coffee-and-tea parlor, and Lottie had a customer at the counter, so I hung up my coat, stowed my purse, and hurried in to refill people’s coffee cups and pour freshly brewed tea. As soon as the rush was over, we took a break at one of the white ice-cream tables in the parlor, with cups of vanilla-flavored coffee and a plate of Grace’s homemade scones in front of us.

“Tell us the news about Nikki,” Grace said, handing me the clotted cream.

“I’ll give you the bad news first,” I told them, spreading cream on a scone. “As it turns out, Nikki
was
at the murder scene, and her boots might be the evidence that proves it.”

I offered Lottie the cream, but she shook her head. I noticed she bypassed the scones, too, and just stuck with her coffee. “What’s the good news?” she asked.

“Marco is on the case,” I said. “Dave hired him to canvass the neighbors so we can back up Nikki’s alibi.”

“Won’t you be helping?” Grace asked.

“Dave doesn’t think I’ll be objective. . . . Lottie, are you ill? You look pale all of a sudden.”

Lottie used a napkin to mop sweat from her forehead. “I’m just feeling a little overheated. I might be coming down with a stomach bug. I haven’t had much of an appetite today.”

“Shall I turn down the heat, do you think?” Grace asked her.

“I’ll be okay. Go back to what you were telling us, Abby. Where was Jonas killed?”

“In a model home in a development called Chateaux en Carnations.”

“Rather an odd name,” Grace commented, while Lottie shifted as though she were in pain.

“Jonas seemed to have a thing for carnations,” I said. “According to Dave, someone stabbed Jonas inside his model home and left him there to die.”

“How did Nikki happen to be there?” Grace asked. “I thought she’d only gone to dinner.”

“That’s what she said this morning, but over lunch just now, Nikki admitted that she was so rattled by the cops, she forgot to tell me the rest, which is understandable.”

The women exchanged glances; then Lottie said, “You asked her point-blank this morning what happened, right? And she told you she went out to dinner and that was it.”

“Right. But she wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“She was thinking clearly enough to omit part of her story,” Lottie said.

“So what are you saying?” I asked.

“You’ve heard the term ‘a lie by omission,’ haven’t you, dear?” Grace asked.

“Nikki didn’t lie,” I said, growing perturbed.

“Everyone lies,” Lottie replied, “either to protect themselves or to protect someone else’s feelings. Herman lies to me every time I ask him if my pants make my butt look big. Truth is, my butt
is
big, no matter what’s covering it.”

I pondered that observation while I sipped my coffee. “Say you’re right about Nikki. Then here’s what must have happened. She knew I was upset that she’d gone out with Jonas, so she didn’t want to admit to anything more, figuring the whole thing would pass. But then it didn’t.”

Neither one said anything for a moment; then Grace, being tactful, said, “You know her better than we do, love.”

Hmm.
I’d always thought so, anyway.

“Good heavens, look at the time,” Grace exclaimed. “The Monday-afternoon Ladies’ Poetry Society will be here in an hour.”

“And let’s not forget Jillian will be here at four thirty,” I reminded her.

“Don’t worry about Jillian,” Lottie said. “I’ve already come up with an idea—” With a gasp of pain, she clutched her abdomen.

“What is it, Lottie, dear?” Grace asked, rising in alarm.

“Sharp . . . pain.” Lottie gasped, pressing a hand to her rib cage. “Can’t . . . breathe.”

Grace quickly felt the back of Lottie’s neck. “You have a fever. Abby, run to get our thermometer. Now, tell me exactly where you feel this pain, love.”

“Below . . . my ribs,” Lottie managed. “Probably indigestion. Breakfast didn’t . . . sit well.”

I dashed to get the thermometer from our first-aid kit in the kitchen, trusting that Lottie was in capable hands. In one of Grace’s previous careers, she’d been a surgical nurse.

When I hurried back, Grace was on the phone calling for an ambulance, and Lottie was nearly bent in two and looking worse by the second. I ran to the coffee counter to get a cool washcloth, then knelt on the floor beside Lottie’s chair and put the cloth on her forehead.